i wrote this quote down when i was pregnant:
we thought we had such problems. how were we to know we were happy?
i left a comment yesterday about seeing people cry over ridiculous shit and thinking they had no idea what there was to really cry about. how i could look back at all the dumb shit i've cried about in the past. how i wonder if, in the future, i would look back and think this wasn't even the worst of it...how i can't imagine anything worse than this, but i never could have imagined this, either.
the fact is, though, that the quote not only applies to life before my baby died. this quote means NOW. this quote means that EVEN NOW, i am not appreciative of the things i DO have, the happiness that is here, now. the happiness i can have in this moment.
it is true, though, that the things i appreciate are in a totally different box from my grief; my grief and my happiness are not mutually exclusive. the dumb shit people say about appreciating the alive children i have, expecting them to make up for my dead baby girl...well that's just silly and desperate of them.
but i think there's something to it, that quote. because really, it does still apply. there are days i'd rather stab my eyes out than read something like that, but today i'm going with it.
to be honest, i feel the need to let that sentiment seep under my skin. i think it has alot to do with fear; i think if i don't learn that lesson now, something even worse will happen and i will be crying over not being happy when i could. isn't that the whole fucking point of my pain in the present? how i didn't appreciate my baby girl while i had her inside me? listen, pergnancy sucks. and so does losing a baby. but knowing that it sucks doesn't negate the fact that i wish i could have loved and appreciated what i had, when i had it.
and the only time i can put that into practice is NOW.
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This is one of the most present narrative in my head as I move through the days. My sister sent me an email yesterday, talking about some research she had done on her pain and depression and how maybe I could benefit from it to. I can't help but think, seriously, what does she have to be sad about? Doesn't she realize how happy her life could be if she only stopped wallowing?
But then, who am I to judge? There are things in my life, even now that I should be happy with, because you're right... We could look back one day and think that we *should* have been happier. Life's lesson in this is: Things can *always* get worse.
oops, sorry for the ramble :)
It is so much easier to see the bad stuff and let it overwhelm the good.
When I right one of those lists with good points and bad points I could write for hours on the bad points, but struggle to find more than a couple good.
I am not someone who finds it easy to appreciate what I have now. I never have been.
Even now after losing J I know I should but all I can do is let the negative overshadow me, what I don't have and what I want to have. You'd think I'd learn.
I'm trying though.
I really like the tone of this post. We do all have to concentrate on staying in the moment, letting NOW be what matters.
I think we are all in this together in so many ways.
It's hard to see the good in NOW when NOW sucks so badly. Granted, I have two healthy kids, a marriage that's still in tact, a loving family that wants me to be better, a business that is doing really well, etc., etc., etc....but the only thing I can think of is what I don't have. It's awful, isn't it? The way we get caught up in this game of grief, but is there any other way? I know it really comes down to choice. Choosing to appreciate. Choosing to be grateful. And to some extent, choosing to find happiness. But making the right choice is made all the more difficult when such an integral part of us died when our babies did. Maybe the pain is just too fresh. But you are certainly asking the right questions. Maybe by asking them is how we don't get swallowed up by this loss. By recognizing that all we have is the present is how we are finally able to move forward, with the memories of our babies in tow.
"i think if i don't learn that lesson now, something even worse will happen"
You are assuming the universe is fair and if we learn the "lessons" we will not repeat it
It could always get worse....
and the only thing we have control over is our perceptions
change the perception...?
I know my son doesn't make up for my daughter dying, but i also know that i would be a fool not to appreciate and love as many minutes as I can with him because....
....it could always get worse
I think this is your way of going through the "guilt" aspect. It is such a normal part of the grief, the guilt. You seem to really be doing some hard work on this!
There really are things we don't want others to say, things that make you want to scream real loud when others say it, but things that sometimes we come to on our own, in our own way. When others say them they sound patronizing, diminishing of our pain. So even if we ourselves get there, we still don't want others to say it, because what right do they have?
We've all cried about ridiculous stuff in the past. Good lord, I used to cry if I lost something in the house, like my glasses.
THIS...puts everything into perspective. It's a perspective I could do without. All this freaking wisdom. I don't care about it one bit. But, it's still there.
I don't have much to be thankful for at the moment, but I think it's still a good thing for me to think about the things I am thankful for. There are a couple of them.
basically i think being a mother sucks the life out of you. add your three live kids and having a dead baby and voila. there you have a tramautized, angry, depressed mom who carries an enormous burden. nowonder we sem to understand each other a bit. still i applaud your efforts and insights. you are fighting like hell to get out of that pit.
This is true, but it is also hard. I don't know if you read my recent post "Now and Then" but I talked about what a crummy mother I was to my living children in the aftermath of my twins death. I tried. I still loved them, of course. I was still affectionate and loving toward them. I was just so tired and sad and it was hard to pull myself out of that with nothing but willpower to do it. Time... time...
But, I also understand the fear of looking back yet again and wondering, why wasn't I happy with all that I had? Holding conflicting emotions at the same time is never easy. Happiness and sadness, gratitude and regret...
Sometimes, people don't ever feel happy, even if they haven't had to go through something awful. You are a step ahead of this - you realize there are things you can be happy about.
That's what I keep telling myself. That I have my two beautiful, healthy kids and I can not let losing our third take something more away from them. So many moms here have yet to have a living child. What kind of greedy, selfish asshat am I to not see what I do have and only focus on what I don't.
On the other hand, what kind of numb, cold mother am I if I go through the rest of my life not grieving the loss of my son.
Fucking grief...sucks.
Let me know if you figure it out...
Kal - I was reading something yesterday where a few mothers were talking about subsequent pregnancies and how awful they felt that those "sub" babies made them feel better than their lc that were there before their child died. Even though I am not in those shoes with no lc yet, it gave me a greater understanding.
The concept that the LC who has his/her own grieve, needed energy from you when you could barely muster the energy yourself, etc. made sense to me. The new "sub" baby represented a child that had not known all that grief and sadness, so the feeling was different (not a replacement).
Rambling again, I guess my feeling is that I am envious of your LC, but I know it's so very hard for all of us, regardless.
Your words tonight were like a lightning bolt to me. When you write "i will be crying over not being happy when i could" just resonates with me in so many different ways and areas of my life right now. And when you say "my grief and my happiness are not mutually exclusive"--that was kind of revolutionary for me to read. I had never really thought of it that way, and it applies to several areas of my life as well.
I've found that even when I'm consciously telling myself to enjoy the moment as much as possible, the memory is never as full as the moment and it leaves me feeling unsatisfied. And when that happens with your memories of the child you lost, there's so much longing and pain and regret and guilt attached to it too. I know just what you mean.
I wish you hadn't lost your little p@ige. It just struck me that a page is a person who carries messages. That seems meaningful to me. Thank you for so honestly sharing your thoughts with us.
I think it is human nature to feel like this. It's like wanting what we can't have and the grass is always greener, blah, blah, blah. But at least you recognize that you have things you should be happy about and that is probably a step in the right direction. And I am sure it's of no comfort, but it sounds like the rest of us feel the same way as you. I agree with G. that as sucky as things are now, things can always get worse. It's hard to imagine anything being worse than this, but I am sure it's out there...
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